Val Mcdermid - Star Struck

I switched my phone to mute, not wanting to risk the rage of the director if it rang during another take. When the shot was finally in the bag, I followed Gloria back to the wardrobe truck. While she changed back into her own clothes, I checked for messages. To my surprise, Della had called back already. I found a quiet and sheltered corner behind the make-up trailer and dialled her number. “Good news,” she said.

“I could use some.”

“I’m on my way back to Manchester now. I managed to get hold of my contact, and he’s meeting me around three in La Tasca. If you want to swing by there around half past three, I should have what you need.”

“And I can buy you both some tapas?” I said with resignation.

“Just me,” she said firmly. “I’m not having you corrupting any more police officers.”

“As if. See you.” I hung up and checked my watch. If the roads were still as clear out in Saddleworth as they’d been earlier, I could get Gloria back home and still make it to the tapas bar in time for my meeting with Della.

Forty minutes later, outside my house, I handed Gloria’s car keys to a nervous Donovan. “Do I have to stay over?” he asked, glancing apprehensively at Gloria who was giving him flirtatious waves and winks through the windscreen.

“She’s got no personal appearances this evening, but she wants to visit her daughter for dinner. I’d like you to drive her there and take her home afterwards. I’ve told her I think she’s in no danger and she should pay us off, but she’s adamant that she wants us to carry on.”

“She’s after my body, more like,” he grumbled.

“You should be so lucky. I think pretending she’s trying to get into your knickers is a more acceptable motive to her than admitting she’s scared shitless. Just because she doesn’t like doing vulnerable doesn’t mean she’s not afraid,” I told him. “So it might not be a bad thing if you do stay over. It also saves me having to drive to Saddleworth in arctic conditions at the crack of sparrowfart, and if I was you, I’d be happy to store up a few Brownie points with the boss.”

He grinned. “You going to tell my mum, then?”

Suckered again. “I’ll tell her. At least you’re not going to get arrested for taking care of Gloria.”

He didn’t look as if he thought it was much of a consolation. I waved them off, then walked across to Upper Brook Street and caught a bus down to Deansgate. Even public transport was better than trying to get into town and parked legally when the snow was

I spotted Della right away, sitting at a round table near the back. She was sitting with a young Asian bloke who I guessed was her former colleague, now DI Tucker’s bagman. I helped myself to one of the tall wooden bar stools and ordered a Corona. It came with the obligatory slice of lime, which always made me feel like an amateur teenage drinker again, fourteen and down the pub with a half of lager and lime. These days, I need all the help I can get.

Ten minutes later, her companion left and I picked up my beer and threaded my way across the room. “You look good,” I said, meaning it. Her copper hair had started to show a few silver strands, but somehow it only made it look richer. Her skin was still glowing from the month she’d just spent in Australia; the old shadows under her eyes hadn’t reasserted themselves yet. A Cambridge-educated economist, Della had one of the most devious financial minds I’d ever encountered. Way too smart for the Serious Fraud Office, she’d carved out her own niche in the north, unrivaled when it came to unravelling the sordid chicanery of the sharks in sharp suits.

“You look knackered,” she said. “Have some chorizo. I just ordered more prawns and the aubergine with grilled cheese.”

My mouth watered and I remembered how long it had been since breakfast. As I made uncouth sandwiches with French bread and the meltingly rich sausage, I filled Della in on my day. She winced at the encounter between Turpin and Jackson. “I wouldn’t like to be Linda Shaw this afternoon,” she said. She pushed a large manila envelope towards me as I finished the last of the chorizo. “One set of crime-scene photographs. I’ve had a quick look myself, and I didn’t see anything to excite me. But then, murder has never interested me much.”

I didn’t bother opening them. There would be a better time and place soon. Besides, food was due any minute, and I didn’t want to lose my appetite. “Thanks.”

Della smiled. “I said it might tie in with a long firm fraud I was working on, but I didn’t want to go public on it yet, hence the unofficial request. I don’t think he believed me, but I don’t think he much cared. So, no big deal.”

“I owe you,” I said. I meant it; but what I owed Della was nothing compared to the debt Dennis would face if my hunch worked out. I couldn’t wait to see his face when I told him he was in hock to a DCI.

She has an independent, progressive and original mind, backed with a strong and forceful personality. Individuality is important to her and she thrives on breaking patterns. She can be a breath of fresh air or a devastating tornado. In the 5th house, friends will be important in helping her to secure success.

From Written in the Stars , by Dorothea Dawson

The gods had finally started to smile on me, I decided when I arrived at the office to find Shelley temporarily absent from her desk. Before she could emerge from the loo, I slipped into my old office where I found Gizmo hunched over one of the computers. I recognized the program he was running, a basic template for a computer-controlled security system for a mediumsized building split into a mix of large and small rooms. It looked like one of the privately owned stately homes whose owners had turned to us after we’d scored a spectacular success in closing down a ring of specialist art thieves. It was a case that I didn’t like thinking about, for all sorts of reasons, so I was more than happy to have Gizmo around to take care of that end of the business.

He grunted what I interpreted as a greeting. “I’ve been thinking, Giz,” I said. “I know you probably think I’m being paranoid, but if you’re going ahead with a meeting with the cyberbabe …” I caught his warning look and hurriedly corrected myself. “I mean Jan, sorry. If you’re going to arrange a meeting with her, you should have somebody to cover your back. Just in case she turns out to be a nutter. Or the whole thing is some terrible set-up.”

He did that thing with his mouth that people use to indicate you might just have something. “I guess,” he said. “It’d have to be

“How about me?”

“You don’t mind?”

I sat down and made meaningful eye contact. “Gizmo, you need someone who can suss this woman out at a hundred yards. Your anorak friends would be about as much use as a cardboard barbecue. Besides, this is self-interest. The last thing I need right now is the human equivalent of the Pakistani Brain Virus eating up my computer genius. Just check the date and time with me, and I’m all yours.”

“Sound,” he said, his eyes already straying back to the screen.

“There is, of course, a price to pay,” I said.

He closed his eyes and raised his face towards the ceiling. “Suckered,” he said.

I spread out the contents of the envelope Della had given me and explained what I wanted. “It’s a freebie,” I said. “For Dennis. Can do?”

He scratched his chin. “It won’t be easy,” he said. “I’ll have to take it home with me. I don’t have the software loaded here. But yeah, it should be doable. When do you need it for?”

“The sooner the better. The longer it takes you, the longer Dennis is going to be behind bars.”